


Your Boy Tonight

by hermette



Series: bb dom Spencer [2]
Category: Bandom, Panic At The Disco
Genre: BDSM, Failboats In Love, M/M, Spanking, kinky boyfriends
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-19
Updated: 2012-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-29 19:21:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/323251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hermette/pseuds/hermette
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s a fucking wonder they’ve ever managed to get their pants off in the same room at the same time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Your Boy Tonight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fictionalaspect](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalaspect/gifts).



“I feel like…really fucking stupid,” Spencer says. He knows that he’s red all over and even his voice sounds off, all squeaky and weird. His palms are sweating and his shirt is stuck to his back, and this is almost certainly not what Brendon had meant when he’d climbed into Spencer’s bunk last night and whispered _I want you to spank me so hard I can’t sit down_. “Should we be like—”

Brendon groans and collapses on the bed beside Spencer. His hair is still wet from the shower and he’s not wearing anything except a pair of thin, white underwear. They’re the most basic underwear on the planet, play old white fruit of the loom, and they definitely should not be sexy, but Spencer can see everything. His dick stirs a little at the sight of the dark hair curling around the base of Brendon’s cock.

“Dunno,” Brendon says, flopping a hand out to the side and fumbling for the bottle of water he left on the nightstand. “It isn’t like I’ve ever done it.”

Spencer sighs and grabs Brendon’s water bottle for him. He hates this part. He feels so awkward and unsure and like, he knows that he and Brendon have to talk about this kind of shit, but it’s so much easier to just do, rather than sitting down and hashing out a plan while they’re both red-faced and half-turned on, half freaking the fuck out. It’s a fucking wonder they’ve ever managed to get their pants off in the same room at the same time.

“Look,” he says finally, because someone has to. “You get on your hands and knees and I’ll just hit you, okay?” It’s a shitty plan, but it’s the best he’s got. They’ll just have to figure the rest of it out as they go. Fuck.

Brendon swallows and draws in a shaky breath. “O-okay,” he manages. He sits up and takes a drink of his water. “Should I, like—”

“You should get on your hands and knees,” Spencer says. He takes the bottle, screws the cap on, and drops it off the side of the bed.

Brendon shivers. “And you’re…”

“Gonna spank you,” Spencer chokes out. His knows his whole face is red. He’s probably pitting right through his shirt.

Brendon nods and rolls over unsteadily, pushes himself up to his hands and his knees. His breaths are coming in short little bursts, like he’s really turned on or really nervous, Spencer can’t tell. He climbs around so that he’s kneeling behind Brendon, wipes his palms on his pajama pants, and counts to ten.

“Okay,” he says. His tongue feels too big for his mouth. “So…I’m going to hit you.”

“Right,” Brendon breathes.

“And if you don’t like it, or if you want me to stop, just say your safeword.”

Brendon nods.

“Or like. No, or stop, or don’t. Pretty much anything, okay? Pretty much anything except ‘yeah, Spencer, give it to me harder’, and I’m going to stop, okay?”

Brendon snorts and nods. “Right,” he says. “Got it.”

“Okay,” Spencer says softly, and then, “Okay,” again as he puts a palm to the small of Brendon’s back. His skin is still damp and so soft.

Brendon gasps and jerks away from the touch. Spencer’s stomach lands somewhere on the floor behind him. “Fuck,” he says, scrambling backward. “Fuck, sorry—“

“No!” Brendon turns his head and looks over his shoulder. His eyes are wide and dark, and that look is the only thing that keeping Spencer from running from the room, from calling the whole thing off. “Sorry,” he says. “I wasn’t… I thought—”

“Yeah,” Spencer says. Fuck, maybe this was a bad idea. His heart is beating triple time in his chest. “Bren, are you sure—”

“Yeah,” Brendon says quickly. “Yes. I just—I got nervous all of a sudden.”

“Do you want to wait? We don’t have to do it tonight, we can—”

“If we don’t do it tonight, we can’t do it for like, two weeks,” Brendon says. He straightens his spine out and drops his head low between his shoulders, and something shifts under his skin, something Spencer can’t see but understands all the same. When he puts his hand to Brendon’s back again, Brendon doesn’t move a muscle. “Spence, please.”

Spencer curls and uncurls his fist, flexing his fingers and feeling them pop. He focuses on the smooth stretch of skin in front of him, on the low, lazy whine of the air conditioning unit under the window, on the echo of Brendon’s voice telling him how he wanted it—

The first blow comes as a surprise to both of them. Brendon cries out and jerks forward; Spencer gapes and watches the handprint bloom under the curve of Brendon’s underwear.

“I—”

“Yeah,” Brendon says unevenly. “Give it to me harder.”

Something flares up in Spencer’s chest before he can shove it down and he spanks Brendon again, landing the slap right beside the first. Brendon pitches forward and then back, steadying himself for the next one, and he hasn’t got any smart words this time. Spencer hits him again, with his left hand this time. He’s not hitting as hard as he could, but he’s not exactly pulling the blows.

“Yes,” Brendon hisses. “Fuck, yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Brendon says again, a little louder this time, like maybe Spencer hadn’t heard him. Spencer heard him; he just loves the feeling of pride and satisfaction that spreads out under his skin when he knows he’s doing it right—when he’s giving it to Brendon like Brendon wants it.

“More?”

Brendon groans and arches his back.

“More,” he says, dropping his head. “Yeah, more.”

Spencer pulls back and hits Brendon again, right on the curve where his ass becomes his thigh. He’s not turning his shoulders into it, is hitting just with the strength of his bicep, and he hopes that’s right. It’s just…he doesn’t know, and he doesn’t know how to find out. He’d read a little bit on some web pages, but those were terrifying, and Spencer had back buttoned right the fuck out of there because he doesn’t want to torture Brendon’s cock and balls—he _likes_ Brendon’s cock and balls—and he doesn’t particularly like the feel of leather. There’s this leap that Spencer can’t seem to make. He knows that some of the stuff they want is a little out there, because he wants to slap Brendon and choke him with his dick and maybe tie him to the bed and make him cry for it, but there are all these _words_ and rules, and they’re so completely overwhelming, and Spencer can’t even…

Maybe one day, he thinks, slapping Brendon’s ass and watching Brendon push back into it, he’ll be able to figure this shit out. He knows that he needs to. He wants to give Brendon exactly what it is that he needs. He wants Brendon to have everything he wants, and he wants to be the one to give it to him.

“That hurts so fucking bad,” Brendon gasps out. “Holy fuck, Spence.”

Spencer hesitates and shakes his hand; his entire palm is tingling. “I’ll stop,” he says. “You ready for me to stop?”

“God,” Brendon groans, going down onto his elbows and dropping his face into his hands. He’s pink everywhere and there’s sweat springing up all over his back. It collects and rolls down the dip of his spine, towards his narrow shoulder. Spencer has to look away and curl his hand into a ball. He hits himself in the thigh and grits his teeth.

“Yeah?”

“No,” Brendon says quickly. “No, just, like—fuck.” The last word is almost a laugh. “I’m about three seconds from coming all over this bedspread.”

Spencer jerks his head back around so quickly his neck pops. “What,” he demands. “What did you just—”

Brendon groans again and drops one shoulder to the bed, reaches between his thighs, and slides his hand into his underwear. “I’m like…I’m seriously so fucking wet right now, Spence.”

“Jesus,” Spencer blurts out. He has to reach into his own pants and squeeze his dick. He hadn’t realized it but now that Brendon’s fondling himself, it occurs to Spencer that he’s pretty fucking hard himself. He fists his dick a couple of times, and it’s like…fuck, his hand is almost numb from spanking Brendon’s ass, and the sensation of heated palm against his dick is so intense.

“Could you, like—” Brendon shudders, his hand still working between his legs. “I know we said we were gonna leave my underwear on, but do you think you could still do it if I…”

Spencer hears himself make an undignified noise. Brendon giggles into his forearm and…yeah, yeah, Spencer thinks he read something about that. Endorphins or some shit. Whatever it is, it’s good. Brendon looks high as a kite.

“Right,” Spencer manages. He pulls his hand out of his pants, takes in a deep, steadying breath, and curls his fingers around the waistband of Brendon’s underwear. “Like—”

“Yeah,” Brendon breathes. He’s jacking himself off properly now, doesn’t even stop as Spencer eases Brendon’s underwear over his ass ( _redredred_ ) and down his thighs. They both gasp.

“Brendon,” Spencer says. “Jesus, your ass, oh my god.”

“Fuck,” Brendon bites out. He squeezes his dick rhythmically. “Oh god, oh fuck.”

“It’s…it’s so red. Jesus, how hard was I hitting you?”

“Oh _god_ ,” Brendon says. His eyes are squeezed shut so tightly but Spencer can’t even blink. He’s never seen anything as hot as this. Brendon’s ass is covered in red blotches from where Spencer has been spanking him, from where Brendon _asked_ Spencer to spank him, and Spencer is going to come all over those marks in about four seconds.

“More,” Brendon gasps out. “More, more.”

“I…I shouldn’t,” Spencer says, even though is palm is itching and there’s a voice in the back of his head that’s screaming, _Hit him, hit him again_.

Brendon cries out. “Please,” he says. “Just…a few more. C’mon, just…just five, Spence, I’m—”

“Yeah,” Spencer says. “Yeah, okay.” He reaches out and scrapes a fingernail over the tender skin of Brendon’s ass. Brendon makes a noise like someone is being killed right in front of him.

“Please,” he cries. “Please, fuck, Spencer.”

Spencer doesn’t hold back this time. He turns his shoulder and follows through on the blow, knocking Brendon up onto the ball of his shoulder.

“Yes,” Brendon gasps. “Yes, thank you.”

 _Thank you_ , fuck, Spencer wonders if it’s actually possible to die from sex. He feels like his fucking brain is going to explode.

He hits Brendon again. And again. Brendon thanks him for the second and the third blow and on the fourth he tenses up and comes all over his fist, a hoarse cry tearing out of his throat. He collapses down onto the bed, come spreading out from under his hips, and Spencer hits him one last time.

He barely gets his reddened palm around his own dick before he’s painting Brendon’s skin with his orgasm.

* * * * *

By the time Brendon comes back to himself, Spencer has cleaned up with a wet cloth from the bathroom and changed his pants. His other pajamas need a washing, but at least they’re not covered in come.

“Hnnng,” Brendon mumbles, shifting on the bed. “Oh, fuuuuck.”

“Yeah,” Spencer replies, and then they’re both giggling, pressing their mouths to one another’s shoulders and kissing there, a soft and quiet _hey, are you okay?_

“Good?”

“I’m the fucking _king_ of good ideas,” Brendon says, stretching out on the bed and wincing. “Except for how I can’t move, Jesus fuck, Spence.”

“Your fault,” Spencer says, but he’s grinning and Brendon is grinning and there’s nothing outside of this room. There’s nothing else in the entire world.

“You should go get me a Snickers.”

Spencer rolls his eyes but climbs off the bed anyway and reaches for his wallet. His heart feels too big for his chest and he can’t stop sneaking little glances, making sure he’s still there, that he’s still safe and whole and Brendon.

“Anything else?”

Brendon raises an eyebrow. “I can have two treats?”

“You can have a drink,” Spencer says, even though he thinks they probably both know that he means _you can have anything you want_.


End file.
